


Lies, Damn Lies, and Love Letters

by ladysisyphus



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassian Culture, Epistolary, Maybe a little bit romantic here, set about a year or so post-series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:46:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladysisyphus/pseuds/ladysisyphus
Summary: Why, you weren't expecting Garak to tell the truth about Cardassian New Year's traditions, were you?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Lies, Damn Lies, and Love Letters

My dearest doctor:

This would have been the _fourth_ letter of mine sent since I last received word of your situation, had I not awakened this morning to a paltry pair of lines from you. "Back from assignment. More when finished debriefing." Really, you'd think Starfleet had begun charging by the word! And should one of your fine Section 31 officers be reading this, I assure you that I of course had no idea which neutral zone you were in, nor did I even suspect that there might have been any sort of disaster on a classified starship would have required your immediate attention. Such things would be the purview of a spy, and as we all know, I have left that life and those networks far behind.

Since you have been out of touch for so long, I suspect you have no idea that today begins our new year on Cardassia -- the first time I've been planetside for it in years, in fact. The people have thrown themselves into the festivities despite the all-consuming effort of reconstruction, and indeed because of it. Frivolity and beauty are their own sort of medicine.

And the traditions! Alone on the station, I felt ill-matched to the challenge of preserving them. Here at home, though, they are treasured and held dear by all. First, of course, is the Flogging of Uncles. Last night, families around Cardassia gathered in courtyards and public parks for this ritual beating, which can sometimes take up to two hours to complete properly. An only child myself, I have only ever been permitted to watch from a distance, and perhaps pick up a whip during the occasional lull in the proceedings, if only to pass the time until the next close relative's turn.

The sounds of music fill the morning air from every corner. At this very moment, if I look from my window, I can see into the courtyard where the unmarried young people are doing the Kalath, a traditional dance. It involves a great deal of spinning: first one's self, then flowered garlands, and then a variety of flails and other blunt instruments. Whoever escapes being concussed, they say, will be lucky in love in the new year. I see no fewer than three young men seated on the sidelines, holding cold compresses to their foreheads, perhaps wondering where the courtship went awry. Small wonder I have remained a lifelong bachelor.

Perhaps most dear to me are the sugar cakes, little confections about the size of the circle made by one's thumb and forefinger. The elders of the community make each one with care, hand-icing the tops with words of good wishes, and hand them out to the youngsters. One of every dozen is of course laced with a bit of poison -- oh, not enough to do harm to anyone. Think of it instead as a way to build the children's resistance, which is the best sort of fortune one can take into the new year. I shall promise, though, that all of the half-dozen I have set aside for you are perfectly safe. That is, unless the elders have gotten craftier during my time in exile. I suppose there's only one way to find out.

Fabulous though they taste, they are notoriously delicate. Why, some feel they should be either consumed on or discarded after the first day. I myself am a bit more patient, believing that with proper storage, one can preserve them for up to two weeks without notable loss of quality. Any longer, though, and they will be absolutely ruined.

And I know you, doctor, would not be so rude as to leave a gift to spoil.

I remain ever-patiently yours,

E.G. 


End file.
